Honestly – being a parent is the worst job in the world. Sometimes. When there are things to worry about and difficult decisions to make and trust me, I have much to worry about. But. There is always a silver lining. For example, I am deliriously happy to have my firstborn son back in the country so that just for a minute I am not worrying about what he is up to in South East Asia. However, now that we’ve had a chance to catch up he tells tales that would make your toes curl. He just seems to be regaling one scary story after another…..”but mum, why do you think I didn’t tell you at the time? You would have FREAKED OUT for the whole rest of my time away” (next blog post – be warned).
He is not, quite, “back in one piece”. He is a little bit broken here and there. At the hospital, when the nurse asked him what he’d done to break a bone in his foot he simply shrugged his shoulders and said “not really sure – I just woke up in the morning and my foot was really hurting”….I did suggest that perhaps if anyone else asked him he could make something up but he said “mum, all I need to say to anyone who’s been there is ‘Full Moon Party’ and they understand”.
My brother sent me text the day my firstborn son arrived back from his Gap Year travels:-
“How is the prodigal son?”
“A bit smelly and covered in jelly fish stings and infected mosquito bites and a broken heel bone which meant we spent all day at A & E once he’d got off the plane”…
My shiny white product has gone off out in the world without me and made a little bit of mess of himself round the edges. I guess that is to be expected. He looks great actually. All typically traveller-esque (he’s not as yet looking any wiser or indeed saying anything very wise – but maybe if you go to Thailand for too long all those wise thoughts get zapped) – goaty ish facial growth, many wristbands, flip flops, desire to walk about in bare feet, long hair, you know the sort of thing:-